


teardrops of the stars

by keep_swinging, rainstorm97



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Drabble Collection, Drama, F/M, Family, Flowers, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Language of Flowers, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, but rain will try and soften the blow, codename: flower fic, if keeps is writing you know there'll be angst, it's fluff, the first drabble isn't angst i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_swinging/pseuds/keep_swinging, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainstorm97/pseuds/rainstorm97
Summary: flowers are the music of the groundfrom earth's lips spoken without sound-Edwin Currana collection of juke drabbles based on flowers.
Relationships: Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 61
Kudos: 215





	1. amaryllis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke's always been one to get distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used in this chapter is Amaryllis by Shinedown.

“So, as many of you know, we like to end our shows with a cover song,” Luke says, slightly out of breath from the previous song. He gives a slight nod to the stagehand, who hurries on stage, centering a stool in the middle with an amaryllis flower in a vase on top.

“This is one of our favorite songs, and we like to make sure its namesake is front and center,” he says, gesturing towards the flower. “Thank you guys so much for coming out! Now, here’s Amaryllis by Shinedown.”

With a quick glance at the guys, he starts strumming on his acoustic.

_In a while now_  
_I will feel better_  
_I’ll face the weather before me_  
_In a while now I’ll race the irony_  
_And buy back each word of my eulogy_

_All the uninvited tragedies_  
_Step outside  
_

This was one of his favorite parts of performing - looking out over the crowd, watching as they sang the lyrics along with him, connecting over a shared love of music. As he approaches the chorus, there’s no stopping the grin from spreading on his face.

_So do I remind you of_  
_Someone you never met_  
_A lonely silhouette_  
_And do I remind you of_  
_Somewhere you wanna be_  
_So far out of reach_  
_Oh, I wish you’d open up for me_  
_‘Cause I wanna know you_  
_Amaryllis_

Right as he sings the last line, he spots her. She’s in the middle of the crowd, smiling along as they play. He’s so distracted by her, by the way she loses herself in the music, the way she mouths along to the lyrics and nods her head to the beat, that he misses the next lyric, “ _Bloom_ ”, but thankfully his bandmates are able to cover up his momentary mistake. Reggie shoots him a confused look, but he just brushes him off, continuing with the next verse. As he starts to approach the pre-chorus, a plan starts to formulate in his head.

_Ask yourself now_  
_Where would you be without_  
_Days like this_  
_When you finally collide_  
_With emotions you can't resist_

_So do I remind you of_  
_Someone you never met_  
_A lonely silhouette_  
_And do I remind you of_  
_Somewhere you wanna be_  
_So far out of reach_  
_Oh, I wish you'd open up for me_  
_'Cause I wanna know you_  
_Amaryllis_

Before he can change his mind, he pushes his guitar to his back, pulls the mic off of its stand, and grabs the flower from the vase. Reggie gives him a surprised look while Bobby wails on the guitar solo, and he hops off the stage into the front of the crowd. With his eyes locked on her, he starts making his way towards her, the fans moving out of the way (albeit reluctantly) when they notice his focus is on someone specific.

Just as the music slows down, he approaches her, offering up the flower. She takes it hesitantly, offering him a shy smile. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that the internet is going to have a field day with this. But in the moment, all he can do is just grin back at her, and bring up the mic to his lips to sing:

_In a while now_  
_I will feel better_  
_I will be better_

He shoots her a quick wink before turning back around, belting out the chorus as he heads back to the stage.

_So do I remind you of_  
_Someone you never met_  
_A lonely silhouette_  
_And do I remind you of_  
_Somewhere you wanna be_  
_So far out of reach_

After climbing back on stage and putting the mic back in its stand, he looks out into the crowd, finding her right away, and his eyes don’t leave hers for the rest of the song.

_Oh, I wish you’d open up for me_  
_‘Cause I wanna know you_  
_Amaryllis_  
_Bloom_  
_Amaryllis_  
_Bloom_  
_Amaryllis_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

> **_BLOSSOMING ROMANCE FOR SUNSET CURVE LEAD SINGER?_ **  
>  _During their signature performance of Amaryllis by Shinedown, Luke Patterson took said flower from its vase on stage before jumping into the crowd and gifting it to a random fan. Luke has previously said that he will either leave the flower for the backstage staff, or bring it home to his mother, so this is definitely a rare occurrence! Was this just a random fan encounter, or could romance be blossoming with this mystery girl?_
> 
> _McKenna Johnson for Tigerbeat,_  
>  _September 17, 2020_

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 _@mynameisluke:_ who is she?

 _@lukesgirl542:_ god i wish that were me

 _@longweekend98:_ why can’t my crush give me flowers?

 _@sunsetswerve:_ lucky bitch

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It wasn’t uncommon for Luke to scroll though Instagram and Twitter after a performance, checking out the fan’s reactions and photos from the show. However, after this performance, his scrolling was a little...incessant.

“Dude, you’ve been staring at your phone for like, the past two hours. She’s probably still in shock,” Alex jokes, picking up trash from their post-show pizza celebration. Bobby had already headed home, wanting time to “recharge” after the intensity of a show.

“Yeah, it’s just...I don’t even know her name,” Luke replies, leaning back on the couch and continuing to scroll.

“Isn’t that a Shawn Mendes song?” Reggie asks, throwing a used napkin into the trash bag that Alex was holding. “Nailed it,” he mutters, and Alex rolls his eyes, grabbing the empty pizza box off the coffee table and throwing it in the trash.

“You listen to Shawn Mendes?” Luke asks, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“It’s called being a well-rounded musician. Not everybody can just listen to Nirvana on repeat and call it a day. Some of us like a variety,” Reggie replies, flicking an empty straw wrapper at him. He doesn’t even flinch when it hits him square in the head; he just throws it back at Reggie, who flails while attempting to swat it away.

“Anyway, give it some time, bro. I’m sure she’ll message you soon enough,” Alex reassures him, but it does nothing to stop him from continuing to scroll.

After getting rid of the trash, Alex throws a blanket and a pillow to both Luke and Reggie, who had made it a habit of crashing at his place after a show. Reggie made himself comfortable in his chair, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the light shining from Luke’s phone screen.

After scrolling for another half hour, Luke is just about to put his phone away and go to sleep when he decides to check Instagram one last time. Checking out the band’s message requests, his heart skips a beat when he sees the most recent notification.

 _@julie.molina_ sent you a message.

 _@julie.molina:_  
_[a selfie of her smiling behind the flowers held up to her face]_  
hi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to sound cliche but comments to us are like water to flowers - it's our lifeblood
> 
> If you have a specific flower you want us to write about, leave us a comment and we'll make it happen!


	2. hydrangea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wishes their "I love you's" meant more.

She understands. 

She understands why he’s with _her_ , why he hugs her and kisses her deeply against a locker five down from her own. She’s learned it’s better not to look, or bother with a greeting when he’s with her, because even though he acts like nothing has changed, she knows everything has. 

She understands, because he was never hers, and she was never his. So what if they had movie nights every Friday, her heart beating faster every time he’d move closer to her halfway through the movie, their arms brushing. So what if he knew her Starbucks order for the winter, and the summer, and the spring and the fall, just because he enjoyed surprising her some mornings, bright smile stretched across his cheeks, their fingers brushing as he passed over the lukewarm cup. So what if he’s been there with her through it all, through her deepest lows and highest highs, a hand on her shoulder, a kiss on her forehead, a constant light in the darkness. 

She closes her locker quietly and hears his voice above the chatter of the hallway, firm and _happy_ and hopeful. He tells her he loves her, and even though Julie understands why, there’s something that pulls at her heart, and something else that wishes he loved her instead. 

(When the bell rings seconds later and she passes by them, hands lingering and cheeks flushed red, her eyes meet his for a split second, and there are a million words that bloom on her tongue, but nothing passes her lips, and he stays silent, and they continue the dance they’ve been having since he had started dating her.)

* * *

“Hey,” he says, sounding breathless as he catches her by the shoulder the next morning - the hallways freezing because the school’s heater had busted once again - and immediately pushes something warm into her cold hands. “Got you something.” 

When she looks down she’s met by the sight of a cup of hot chocolate, and she smiles when she lifts it carefully to her lips and tastes the extra whipped cream. 

Her eyes find his after, his hair windswept from where it peeks out from the sides of his grey beanie, his nose red from the December wind. She feels bad already, because Starbucks was out of the way from his house, and from school, but yet here he was, already-melting snow dusted on the shoulders of his jacket, his hands lingering by his sides, his smile warm. 

She doesn’t see Carrie anywhere. 

“Luke you didn’t have to,” she starts, her words quiet, but he’s shrugging before she can finish. 

“It was literally nothing, Molina, c’mon. I can’t surprise you anymore?” 

His tone is light, but the words weigh heavy in her stomach, and she sighs, curling her fingers tighter around the paper cup. She was already messing this up. Why was she already messing this up? 

“Well,” she lets the word hang in the air before she glances away from him to her locker, quickly twirling the spiral lock. “Not when you have a girlfriend you can’t. Wouldn’t want her to think something was up.”

She can see his face fall for the fastest second before confusion replaces it, and she reaches for her books as he stands there, silent. 

“Jules,” he eventually whispers, his hand closing around her arm to grab her attention away from the inside of her locker. The polaroid picture of them in her garage taped to the metal feels like it’s burned into the back of her mind. She turns to meet him, and doesn’t realize how close he had moved, their faces inches apart. 

Her heart beats faster on its own account and she hates it. 

“What’s going on with us Jules?” he asks her, sounding as honest as she’s ever heard him, his fingers burning against the thin material of her jacket. She remembers him promising her that she could use his jacket all winter because he didn’t want her to freeze by the time she got out of fourth period, by the time he was able to see her again. 

She wonders if he remembers his own promise, made exactly six days before he had asked Carrie out on a date. 

“Nothings going on with us,” she deflects, but her own voice betrays her, thin and frigid and a bit too harsh.

“Don’t give me that, Molina,” he begs her, sounding hurt at her attempt to lie to him. 

Julie stays quiet, and Luke is still, and they both stay like that for a while. A part of her that takes humor in all of this thinks that maybe he’ll lean in and kiss her if they stay this close to each other long enough. 

“It’s just, since I started dating Carrie, I feel like I haven’t seen you at all, and I miss you, and I miss us and—“

Julie doesn't want to snap on him. She understands, and she tells herself that she understands, and that understanding should be enough, but for some reason it isn’t, and she feels anguish boiling up inside of her, bubbling right at the surface, ready to blow.

Maybe snapping at him will be easier than explaining.

“Luke—“

She’s cut off by Carrie intertwining her hand with Luke’s open one, sickening sweet smile already plastered to her lips as she tugs him away from Julie and into a kiss.

Julie turns back to her locker, collects the rest of the books she needs, and starts walking in the opposite direction. She hears Luke call out for her as she’s about to round the corner, but she ignores him and keeps going. 

He catches up to her anyways, his palm fire as it wraps around her wrist. 

“Julie,” he breathes, but she stops him before he can say another word.

“You’re dating Carrie, Luke. Which means you hang out with Carrie, and bring her hot chocolate in the morning.” 

Luke’s eyes meet hers, and even he sounds uncertain as he says, “Just because I’m dating Carrie doesn’t mean I have to stop being your best friend.”

Julie shakes her head. 

“No,” she tells him, her voice shaking. “It does.” She turns and heads to her first class of the day, and he calls for her over the sharp ringing of the bell and the echo of the hallway, but she doesn’t turn back around. 

* * *

There’s four bushes that sit outside her house, on either side of her front door. They house bright, beautiful flowers in the spring, but during winter they’re bare, and she sits on her front step and thinks about spring flowers after dinner that night, snow falling gently from the sky. It’s still freezing, even more so with the dropping temperature, but she’s as numb to the temperature as she is to Luke when he slowly approaches from the driveway, his boots quietly crunching against white. 

She doesn’t even realize he’s there until he’s pulling his coat off and slipping it over her shoulders, bundling her up like he had done so many times before, and she doesn’t realize he’s holding something until he places it softly on the ground in front of her. 

She nearly cries at the sight of the flowers that bloom in front of her house in the spring, hydrangeas brought together with a piece of ribbon and colorful against the snow beside them, pink and blue and purple.

“Luke,” she murmurs, at a loss for words, but he simply shakes his head and takes a seat on the step beside her, his hands reaching out to grab her own. 

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting these past few weeks. I’ve just been so carried away with Carrie that I’ve been neglecting you, and that’s really not cool of me. You’re my best friend, Jules, and I don’t want that to change, if we’re dating other people or not.” 

He exhales, squeezing her hands. “I don’t want to lose you, us, this.” His smile is so sure, so happy and okay and caring that it allows Julie to breathe again, even though her heart is still tearing in two. At least he was making amends and trying to put an end to this dance of avoiding they had been at, and she appreciated that, she did. She understood, just like she did with everything else. Of course. 

“Carrie is, she’s amazing, Jules. She is. She’s unlike any other girl I’ve ever been with, and you know that’s been quite a selection. But she’s different. And I really do…” he pauses for a moment, considering his next words. “I really do love her.” 

Julie’s heart feels like it’s leaping from a cliff with how fast it drops and stutters, and she swallows, nodding her head. Luke moves forward and leans his forehead against hers, his eyes locking with hers. 

Julie’s eyes flicker down to his lips, and then back up to his eyes. 

“I don’t want to lose you, Molina,” he tells her in a whisper, “I’m so sorry.” 

She sighs, and moves closer, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching his hands tighter. She understands. She understands. She understands. Friends. Best friends. They’ll always be best friends. That’s enough. 

“It’s okay,” she mumbles, “it’s okay. As long as you’re happy.” 

As long as he was happy. 

His lips spilt into a grin, and he pulls back from her, and they readjust, Julie leaning against him, her head resting against his shoulder as he slings an arm around her own. 

“I love you, Molina,” and her heart hurts, aches, knows, understands. She wishes he really meant it. 

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say is that you guys could've had a happy ending but rain wanted angst and how could I not deliver, lol. Thank you all for the support so far, so awesome to see you guys are just as excited about this series as we are! Comments, as always, mean a lot and would be great for us to wake up to! :)


	3. poinsettia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make each other's Christmas worthwhile.

“Merry Christmas Molina,” he chirps from the doorway, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe, a knowing smile stretched across his lips. 

Julie startles at the sudden noise, looking up from her last-minute Christmas cards - the only thing she had forgotten out of _all_ the gifts this year - and sighs at him, gently tucking her unfinished cards away once again. She’ll get to them after dinner, she supposes, finish them off while the boys stuffed themselves full of pumpkin pie and sugar cookies from that bakery down the street they loved. (Her dad had snuck down there early that morning, fighting off hordes of the neighboring senior community just to get to the ordering counter.) 

The boys still had no idea he had gone at all, and Julie couldn’t wait for their reactions later. 

“It’s not even Christmas yet, you dork.”

Luke chuckles, shrugging before moving further into the room, his expression playful. “Fine, it’s Christmas Eve, but isn’t that close enough?” He takes a seat on the side of her bed, still grinning, and goes to reach for the folder of unfinished gifts. 

“No,” she tells him, firmly, pulling the folder out of reach before his fingers can even graze it. “It’s not.” 

His eyes flicker from the folder in her hands to her face, and his lips part enough that she thinks he might lean in and kiss her until her cheeks are flushed pink and her stomach is turned warm, but instead he simply sighs in exasperation as he turns sideways and flops down on the bed with all his might, nearly throwing her from the creaky frame. 

“Hey!” she scolds, leaving the folder of cards on her nightstand so that she can freely lean over and smack him in the bicep, “be careful! This bed has enough problems as it is.” 

He turns his head, watching her with that same goofy smile she always catches him with whenever he thinks she isn’t looking, as she follows his lead and falls back against the pillows, her curly hair spread out around her as she exhales. 

“Well now you’re just a hypocrite,” he says a few moments later, laughing when she bumps her elbow into his arm. 

“Oh shut up,” she replies, but her words are teasing more than anything else, and with that they both lapse into a comfortable silence. 

The entire house smells like freshly roasted turkey, which her dad had surprisingly not burnt yet, a new record even for him, and she can even catch the stray scent of cornbread or potato, all of which make her stomach grumble eagerly. She can also hear the soft jingle of Christmas music from the living room stereo, bouncing off the walls and echoing up the stairs. (If she listens closely enough she can hear her dad snatch the remote out of her brother’s hand when he replays Rockin Around the Christmas Tree one too many times in a row. It always makes her smile.) 

Luke turns on his side to face her as she takes in the usual smells and sound of a Molina Christmas, reaching his hand out to twirl one of her curls around his fingers. A memory of her and her mom hits her then, sudden and strong. 

Her mom curling her fingers through her hair, promising her she’s beautiful inside and out, no matter what anyone else says. Her mom pulling her close and kissing the top of her head, reminding her that bullies go after what they can’t have, or what they’re afraid of. 

_You shine brighter than they ever will, mija, and they’re just afraid of being blinded._

The memory escapes her just as fast as it had came and she doesn’t even realize there’s one or two tears slipping down her cheeks until Luke’s hand is cupping her cheek, and his calloused thumb is brushing them away. 

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” 

She reaches up and takes his hand with her own, intertwining their fingers, smiling softly. “Sorry, sorry. It was nothing. Just . . . just a memory hit me out of nowhere. Of me and my mom.” 

Luke’s silent for a long moment. “Was it a good memory?” he asks her, his voice quieter than it was a moment before. Julie’s eyes lock with his. She doesn’t feel sad. In fact, she feels lighter. Happier. 

“Yeah,” she tells him in a whisper, “it was the best.” 

.

.

.

After dinner - which was just as much as an exciting affair as she thought it would be, she still isn’t sure who ate the most pumpkin pie out of all three boys - Julie insists that they go to a florist. 

She promises her dad she'll be back within an hour, two tops, and begrudgingly, he hugs her, asks her to be extremely careful, and lets her go. She grabs Luke, drags him out the door with her, and on their way they went. It was hard finding a flower shop open on Christmas Eve, let alone open so late, but they did after a bus ride a few minutes away, neither really opting to drive with the craziness that usually surrounded the holidays. 

The flower shop they go into is barren of any big displays, but plenty full of little ones, and Julie doesn’t tell Luke what they’re looking for or what they’re doing the entire time she pursues the store. There’s an older gentleman behind the counter who smiles when he sees them, and smiles even wider when Julie plops a tiny pot of poinsettia on the counter, the flowers bright red, the leaves a darkened green. 

“Last minute gift?” he asks them, his voice worn with age. 

Luke simply chuckles and shakes his head as he goes to pull out his wallet. “Honestly no idea. She won’t tell me.” Julie stops him with a hand on his wrist, a crisp twenty already passing from her other hand to the gentleman’s outstretched one. Luke doesn’t even have any time to object, and all she does is smile as she collects the receipt. 

“It’s a surprise,” is all she tells the gentleman before thanking him and grabbing Luke by the hand once more. 

They take the bus back, and when Julie pulls him past the street that leads them back home, something finally clicks. “Julie,” he breathes, as they make their way down his old street, towards his old home. “No, Julie, I-I can’t-” 

“I know you can’t. It’s okay. That’s why we got the flowers.” She stops them in the middle of the pavement, her eyes meeting his. “Earlier, when that memory of my mom came up . . . it just . . . you lost so much, Luke. Even if you can’t have it all back, we can at least make it tradition.”

He feels tears prick at his eyes but blinks them back, reaching out and pulling her into a hug instead.

He doesn’t know where he’d be without her.

.

.

.

They stop by her mother’s grave after Luke leaves flowers on his parents’ doorstep and rings the bell. His mother smiles wide at the note that’s attached, scrawled in handwriting that’s so alike to their son’s but so different all at once, and to their knowledge, the flowers were just from a kind stranger passing by. 

Luke and Julie leave some of those same flowers at her grave too. 

.

.

.

It’s late when they finally return home. Ray, Carlos, their aunt and the guys are all watching a movie in the living room, and they call for Luke and Julie to join them. They shed their coats and boots at the door, and Luke wraps an arm around Julie’s waist and kisses her deeply before they go in - cut short by Reggie’s comments a few seconds after. They find a seat on the couch, Julie laying against Luke’s shoulder, his arm slung around her, and it’s halfway through the movie that he says it, his lips by her ear.

“Merry Christmas, Molina.” 

She feels whole.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispers back, her own words ghosting across his chin. “I love you.” He tugs her closer, his body warm, his hold home. 

“Forever and always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I'm surprising rain with this chapter aka she had no idea I was writing this instead of sleeping aka hopefully she doesn't hate me for it aka it's her christmas present XD  
> (also I'm going to say these guys are in their 20s for this drabble, sorry I just couldn't find a good spot to work that in!)
> 
> anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed, comments mean the world to us as always, and merry christmas!!!


	4. tulip - white

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months feels longer than it should.

_“I think you should leave.”_

  
Six months.

  
It had been six months since he last saw her, and he could still hear her saying those words, clear as day. Even the cracks of thunder weren’t loud enough to drown out her voice in his head.

The rain pelts against him as he trudges up the path, holding the flower close to his heart under his jacket so it isn’t hurt by the downpour. By the time he reaches the front door, he’s seriously considering backing out, but before he can think about it too much he presses the doorbell with a shaky hand.

He thinks he hears the house creak as someone walks through it, but it’s hard to tell as another rumble of thunder rolls through. He’s not sure what he’s going to say; he’s not even sure why he’s here for that matter, but before he can think about it any further the door opens.

“Luke?”

It’s the first time he’s heard her voice in six months, and it sounds like angels singing. If his teeth weren’t chattering so much, his jaw probably would’ve dropped.

She stares at him, dumbfounded by his presence, before taking in his current appearance.

“Oh my god, Luke, here, come inside,” she says, grabbing his wrist and tugging him inside. “Just wait, I’ll go grab some towels.”

He can only nod as he shivers, rain dripping off of his soaking wet clothes onto the floor. He watches as Ray meets Julie at the bottom of the steps, conversing in hushed tones, before she rushes upstairs and Ray heads into the kitchen.

The house looks the same as he last saw it. Family pictures lining the walls, blankets draped haphazardly over the couch, a single dahlia sitting in the center of the coffee table. The sound of Julie descending the stairs breaks him from his reverie, and it’s then that he remembers the flower he has under his jacket.

She comes back with a few towels and a set of dry clothes, setting them beside him before turning to face him with one of the towels. She freezes, hand outstretched to offer him a towel in the same way that he was offering a singular white tulip.

They stand, frozen in time, until she finally reaches forward and delicately takes the tulip, careful not touch him. He dares to look at her, and their eyes meet before she immediately tears her gaze away and pushes the towel towards him.

“Here’s some extra towels to dry off with, and here’s some dry clothes,” she says, before turning away and heading back to the kitchen. As he walks to the bathroom, he smiles slightly as he notices his orange beanie amongst the neatly folded pajama pants and old band t-shirt.

Once he’s dried off and in clean clothes, beanie secured on his head, he heads towards the kitchen, where Ray waits for him with a hot cup of tea. Sitting at the island, he takes a sip, savoring the way the heat travels down his throat, working to reheat his body.

“Are you okay, _mijo_?” Ray asks him, but before he can respond he feels a blanket draped over him, which he instinctively pulls around himself tightly. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

“I had nowhere else to go,” he says quietly, staring into his tea. He doesn’t look up when Julie hops up on the stool next to him, or when Ray comes over and gives him a side-hug. He knows if he looks at them, he’ll just see their eyes full of questions that he doesn’t have answers to.

They sit like that for a moment, none of them saying anything. He leans into Ray’s hug as thunder continues to rumble outside, the rain not stopping anytime soon.

“I’ll let you two talk,” Ray says, and gives him a little squeeze before letting go and heading back upstairs. Lacing his fingers around the mug, he takes another sip of his tea, his gaze drawn towards the singular white tulip sitting in a mason jar in the middle of the island.

“Why did you come here?” she asks once Ray left.

“I have nowhere else to go,” he repeats, and she shakes her head.

“Yes, you do. Why didn’t you just go home?”

He stares into his tea, considering his response.

“I just...this has always felt more like home than anywhere else.” He doesn’t risk meeting her eyes, not wanting to know what lies behind them.

She’s quiet for another moment, before asking a question he actually has an answer to. “Why a white tulip?”

“It’s part of my apology. It symbolizes forgiveness.”

She doesn’t respond, and they lapse into somewhat of a tense silence. The rain continues to pour, although the rumbles of thunder aren’t as loud as they were before. By the time he finishes his tea, he can’t take the silence any longer.

“I wasn’t sure if I would be welcome back here,” he admits. He feels her sigh, and chances a glance over at her. She’s staring at the tulip, eyes decidedly not meeting his.

“Well...a lot can change in six months,” she murmurs, and his heart soars.

When she leans his head against his shoulder, he thinks they just might be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, it's me, Rain, coming in hot with my first drabble since amaryllis. I've been hella busy dealing with my last semester of college, but I'm happy I was able to finally get this posted! Hopefully the next time we update it won't take over a month to do 😅  
> Please leave us comments, it helps us be motivated to write faster, and if you missed the last drabble because of the hustle and bustle of Christmas be sure to check it out! :)


	5. larkspur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every book holds a cliffhanger of some sort.

“Is there a certain book you’re looking for, miss?” 

She jumps at the sound of his voice, not at all expecting it, and the book she had in her hands goes tumbling down to the floor, pages crumpling as it hits the hardwood. She looks up at him, feeling more or less mortified when she sees the nametag pinned over the pocket of his shirt. “I am so sorry,” she blurts out in a rush, already bending down to pick it up, hurrying to attempt and smooth out the pages before they crease permanently. She sees him smile out of the corner of her eye as she does so, returning to her full height with the book clutched once more in her hands. 

His eyes flicker down to the cover. “ _Jane Eyre,_ ” he muses aloud, chuckling softly to himself a moment later. 

“What’s so funny about Jane?” she asks him, lifting an eyebrow in question, but his smile doesn’t waver. Instead he shrugs and crosses his arms, leaning against the bookshelf next to her. 

“Nothing at all,” he replies, reaching for the book. Their hands brush as he takes it and a chill runs up her spine. If her cheeks turn a little pink, she hopes he doesn’t notice. He glances over the back of the book, then opens it up so that he can smooth out the rest of the crooked pages, “It’s a solid pick. But if it _is_ going to be your pick, you have two minutes before Miss Betty kicks you from the store.”

She sighs, unable to help a roll of her eyes. “For such a sweet old lady, you would think she would be less punctual on her closing times.” His smile widens as he holds out the book to her, good as new all over again - or as new as you could get at a secondhand bookstore.

“So,” he says, a mischievous gleam to his eyes that wasn’t there before, “what’ll be, miss?” 

She blushes again - what was wrong with her? she’s almost out of college, not some bushy-eyed schoolgirl who melts whenever she talks to a cute guy - and gets lost in his eyes for a moment before she even remembers that he’s waiting for an answer. 

She plucks the book from his grip. “I think this needs to be added to my growing collection,” she glances at his nametag, “Luke.”

He grins, lopsided and happy, “And you?” he asks her, sounding hopeful. She can’t help but smile, and tries her best to ignore the way his eyes shine when she does. 

“Julie.” 

“Julie,” he echoes, “a name just as beautiful as the girl it belongs to.”

And for the third time that day, she blushes, her heart beats faster, and deep inside, she wonders if this is what the books always talk about.

* * *

His hair is covered by a gray beanie today, but some of it still pokes out from the sides, untamed and wild still. His nametag is upside down and Julie finds it funny that it’s already noon and nobody’s told him, but she figures that’s what she’s here for anyway. 

Well, to see him - again - and the books. She’s always here for the books. 

He’s helping a mother and daughter at the children’s section when she pushes through the door two days later, and he looks up a bit too fast when the tiny bell chimes - giving away that he’s been waiting for someone. When his eyes meet hers he immediately smiles and calls out to her.

“Afternoon Miss Julie!”

“You’re making me sound old,” she grumbles playfully as he and the daughter chuckle, and the mother beside them looks happy at the interaction. She leaves him so that she can head back over to her favorite corner. There’s a small wooden table that sits beside a beanbag chair, a little reading nook Miss Betty had set up a few short weeks after opening the store. Whenever Julie’s family had fallen on hard times she remembers coming here just to _read_ in the warmth of a sunny morning, or drizzling afternoon, tucked into a beanbag chair that always ended up swallowing her alive. 

She didn’t think she’d ever grow into it as she picks a Sarah Dessen book from the shelves and settles in, the beanbag chair, as always, covering her in purple.

She makes it ten pages before Luke turns the corner. 

“How’s Jane so far?” he asks her, leaning against the table next to her. The front door chimes as the mother and her daughter leave, the latter chattering happily about her new bedtime story. She glances up from her book, and her eyes catch on his upside down name tag once more. 

“I haven’t actually started yet...” she admits sheepishly, and he gasps in mock horror, even going as far as taking an exaggerated step back. 

“And you’re here, reading a–” he pauses to look at the cover in her hands, “–a Sarah Dessen novel instead? For shame, Julie, for shame.” 

“Have _you_ even read Jane Eyre?” she asks, skeptical. He scoffs, and that mischievous look from the other day returns to his eyes. 

“Of course. We read it in eleventh grade.” 

“We?”

He grins, “My band and I.” 

Julie can’t help the fact that her mouth drops open in shock. “You’re in a band?” He smirks, but leaves her in suspense, instead shrugging nonchalantly. And if she didn’t think this guy would be the death of her before, he sure as hell would be now.

“I might be,” he finally reveals, and Julie snaps her novel shut. 

“Do you sing?”

He laughs, and the sound is music to her ears. “Only perfect harmonies.”

Julie smiles, and thinks about the lyrics she has written in a journal in her late mother’s bag, thinks about how the slight rasp of his voice might sound singing them, his fingers strumming at an acoustic guitar.

“Hey,” she says, reaching for her bag. 

“Yeah?” 

Her fingers grip at the edges of her songwriting book, “Your nametag is upside down.”

His smile disappears as he looks down, and she can’t help but giggle as he curses softly and goes to fix it. He mutters about oblivious customers until Julie passes him her book, opened to her untitled song.

The look in his eyes as he reads makes her heart swoon.

* * *

“Miss Julie,” he greets with a grin on a lazy Thursday, the sun shining brightly through the bookstore windows. 

“Hey Luke,” she says with a roll of her eyes as she joins him at the main counter. He’s picking at a measly blueberry muffin, and she snatches a piece from the plate as he leans back and crosses his arms which - note to self, need to start being covered up at band practice because they’ve started to become more of a distraction than him. “How’s business?” 

He gestures to the muffin. “Booming, obviously. Can’t you tell? I’m swamped.”

She smiles and laughs, pulling out her songbook. “Very funny. So, any more thoughts on the lyrics we could use for Last Saturday?” 

“How about ‘Monday’s a bore and Sunday’s a chore’?”

“Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Sunday’s a bore and Monday’s a chore? Since Sundays are for prepping for Mondays and Mondays are for school or work.”

“Did you want my help or not?” 

She sighs but scribbles down the lyrics next to the rest anyway, her handwriting a bit sloppier than usual as she messes around with the harmonies under her breath. He leans forward to watch her, both of his arms resting on the counter on either side of her, and she’s so busy compiling lyrics that she doesn’t even realize how close he is until she goes to look up. 

All of her breath is caught in her throat and against her best judgement her eyes flicker down to his lips before catching on the rest of his face, and if Luke notices he doesn’t say one word. It’s like they’re both trapped here, in this frozen moment of time neither wants to end, too afraid to break it or find out what happens next. 

His eyes look even more endless up close, and she doesn’t know what to make of the look in them, but whatever it is - whatever it means - her heart won’t stop hammering, and her stomach feels as though it’s full of butterflies.

“So,” he whispers, “what do you say Miss Julie?”

(Her heart says yes.)

The rational part of her flushes, brushes her hair behind her ear, and says that the lyrics could still use more work, but with his help, she’s sure they’ll have the best ones yet.

* * *

Julie couldn’t put into words how Luke makes her feel, or count on one hand how much time she ended up spending at the bookshop with him, talking bands and music and songs that made their hearts beat in sync. Sometimes the time would get away from them, and before either of them knew it, he would be walking her home at closing time, a new conversation about books or life or the weather keeping them both on their toes. 

She couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of her, and it was the best friendship Julie had ever known. No one else made her feel like how he did. 

Tonight is no different.

Glancing at her clock, she knew she had just enough time to make it.

Racing over, she bursts into the store with only seven minutes until closing time, eyes searching until they meet Luke’s, who’s already smiling and moving from behind the counter to greet her.

“I finished it!” she exclaims, nearly bouncing up and down in her excitement. His grin matches hers, and before she can think he’s picked her up in a bear hug, twirling her around.

“I knew you could do it,” he grins once he’s set her down. Their eyes meet and she feels breathless, exhilarated, and his hands are warm from where they rest on her sides and his eyes are full of genuine excitement, matching how she feels. Her heart stutters when he places her hands on her arms, squeezing happily. “This is perfect timing, actually,” he says a moment later, letting go of her so that he can duck behind the counter. She waits - slightly impatiently - as he digs around for something, and when he returns to her, he’s holding something behind his back.

“And what do you have there?” she teases, attempting to reach for his arm but he jumps out of the way, laughing as she follows him.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on! I have a speech prepared!”

She laughs, “You? A speech? What has gotten into you Patterson?”

“Miss Julie,” he starts, paying homage to when they first met, “you are the wind beneath my wings, the peanut butter to my jelly, the sunshine to my cloudy day, the Icarus to my sun–“

“Doesn’t he die at the end?”

“Not the point. What I’m saying is that...over these past few months, you’ve become one of my best friends. Every day at work I catch myself looking up at the door, hoping you’ll walk in with a new song to show me a book recommendation or just a silly story from your family. Ever since I saw you walk through that door I knew you would change my life....I never could’ve imagined you would make it that much better.” 

He pulls the present from behind his back, holding it out to her with a soft smile. It’s a book, cover worn but in perfect condition nonetheless. She takes it from him with her heart stuck in her throat, their fingers brushing. 

“I’m not sure if you’ve read it before or not, but if you haven’t I think you would really like it especially since you just finished Jane Eyre, and I know it’s not much but I just wanted to give you something to show you what you mean to me, and like, what better way to show you than with a book, right? But anyway I guess what I’m trying to say is that I hope you really like the book and I just–” he pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I-I really like you Julie.” 

Her heart stops. She knows he isn’t joking, not from the tone in his voice or the look in his eyes or anything like it, but still she chuckles nervously, and passes the book he had given her between her hands, looking down.

“You’re not serious, right?”

She can see his face fall from out of the corner of her eye, and her heart seems to crash with it. He looks lost for words for a long minute, but then he finds some as he takes a step toward her. “Yeah, Jules. I am.”

“You…” but she trails off, her voice getting lost, and he shakes his head and closes the distance between them, his hand covering over both of hers on top of the book cover. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry for thinking that...for taking this too fast. Misinterpreting things. The book is yours though, okay?”

“Luke—”

He’s out the door before she can stop him, the lights dimming around her. 

She can’t help but feel like she’s made a horrible mistake as she closes the door to the shop behind her, Luke nowhere to be found on the streets. The trek home is too quiet without him to talk to, and she holds the book close all the way to her front door, before she finally can’t stand it anymore. She exhales and opens to the introduction of _Pride and Prejudice_ , and gasps when a flower is pressed between the pages, beautifully blown smooth and glowing in the porch light. It’s a purple flower between two squared pieces of glass, the petals spread out into crisp edges, and Julie swears it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

Underneath the flower, there is a string of words in his handwriting, scrawled hastily on a scrap of white paper. 

_Will you go on a date with me?_

She doesn’t even think twice as she turns and takes off in a run back to the bookshop, her feet moving as fast as they can, and as she rounds the corner the shop sits on, she sees him there, looking in one of the darkened windows. 

She plows into him, taking him by surprise as he catches her, his hands settling on her waist. 

“Julie, what—”

She kisses him, and the rest is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments would mean a lot to us and thanks so much for the support so far! :)


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